Sense and Sensibility

Key

FID

indirect

intro to FID or indirect

Chapter 15

Mrs. Dashwood's visit to
Lady Middleton took place the next day, and two of her daughters went with
her; but Marianne excused herself from being of the party, under some
trifling pretext of employment; and her mother, who concluded that a promise
had been made by Willoughby the night before of calling on her while they
were absent, was perfectly satisfied with her remaining at home.

On their return from the
park they found Willoughby's curricle and servant in waiting at the cottage,
and Mrs. Dashwood was convinced that her conjecture had been just. So far it
was all as she had foreseen; but on entering the house she beheld what no
foresight had taught her to expect. They were no sooner in the passage than
Marianne came hastily out of the parlour apparently in violent affliction,
with her handkerchief at her eyes; and without noticing them ran up stairs.
Surprised and alarmed they proceeded directly into the room she had just
quitted, where they found only Willoughby, who was leaning against the
mantel-piece with his back towards them. He turned round on their coming in,
and his countenance shewed that he strongly partook of the emotion which
over-powered Marianne.

"Is anything the matter
with her?"cried Mrs. Dashwood as
she entered — "is she ill?"

"I hope not," he replied, trying to
look cheerful; and with a forced smile presently added, "It is I who may rather
expect to be ill — for I am now suffering under a very heavy
disappointment!"

"Disappointment?"

"Yes, for I am unable to
keep my engagement with you. Mrs. Smith has this morning exercised the
privilege of riches upon a poor dependent cousin, by sending me on business
to London. I have just received my dispatches, and taken my farewell of
Allenham; and by way of exhilaration I am now come to take my farewell of
you."

"To London! — and are
you going this morning?"

"Almost this moment."

"This is very unfortunate.
But Mrs. Smith must be obliged; — and her business will not detain you
from us long I hope."

He coloured as he
replied,"You are very kind, but I
have no idea of returning into Devonshire immediately. My visits to Mrs.
Smith are never repeated within the twelvemonth."

"And is Mrs. Smith your only
friend? Is Allenham the only house in the neighbourhood to which you will be
welcome? For shame, Willoughby, can you wait for an invitation here?"

His colour increased; and
with his eyes fixed on the ground he only replied, "You are too good."

Mrs. Dashwood looked at
Elinor with surprise. Elinor felt equal amazement. For a few moments every
one was silent. Mrs. Dashwood first spoke.

"I have only to add, my dear
Willoughby, that at Barton cottage you will always be welcome; for I will
not press you to return here immediately, because you only can judge how far
THAT might be pleasing to Mrs. Smith; and on this head I shall be no more
disposed to question your judgment than to doubt your inclination."

"My engagements at
present," replied Willoughby,
confusedly,"are of such a nature
— that — I dare not flatter myself"—

He stopt. Mrs. Dashwood was
too much astonished to speak, and another pause succeeded. This was broken
by Willoughby, who said with a faint smile, "It is folly to linger in
this manner. I will not torment myself any longer by remaining among friends
whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy."

He then hastily took leave
of them all and left the room. They saw him step into his carriage, and in a
minute it was out of sight.

Mrs. Dashwood felt too much
for speech, and instantly quitted the parlour to give way in solitude to the
concern and alarm which this sudden departure occasioned.

Elinor's uneasiness was at
least equal to her mother's. She thought of what had just passed with
anxiety and distrust. Willoughby's behaviour in taking leave of them, his
embarrassment, and affectation of cheerfulness, and, above all, his
unwillingness to accept her mother's invitation, a backwardness so unlike a
lover, so unlike himself, greatly disturbed her. One moment she feared that
no serious design had ever been formed on his side; and the next that some
unfortunate quarrel had taken place between him and her sister; — the
distress in which Marianne had quitted the room was such as a serious
quarrel could most reasonably account for, though when she considered what
Marianne's love for him was, a quarrel seemed almost impossible.

But whatever might be the
particulars of their separation, her sister's affliction was indubitable;
and she thought with the tenderest compassion of that violent sorrow which
Marianne was in all probability not merely giving way to as a relief, but
feeding and encouraging as a duty.

In about half an hour her
mother returned, and though her eyes were red, her countenance was not
uncheerful.

"Our dear Willoughby is
now some miles from Barton, Elinor," said she, as she sat
down to work, "and with how heavy a
heart does he travel?"

"It is all very strange. So
suddenly to be gone! It seems but the work of a moment. And last night he
was with us so happy, so cheerful, so affectionate? And now, after only ten
minutes notice — Gone too without intending to return! —
Something more than what he owned to us must have happened. He did not
speak, he did not behave like himself. YOU must have seen the difference as
well as I. What can it be? Can they have quarrelled? Why else should he have
shewn such unwillingness to accept your invitation here?"—

"It was not inclination that
he wanted, Elinor; I could plainly see THAT. He had not the power of
accepting it. I have thought it all over I assure you, and I can perfectly
account for every thing that at first seemed strange to me as well as to
you."

"Can you, indeed!"

"Yes. I have explained it to
myself in the most satisfactory way; — but you, Elinor, who love to
doubt where you can — it will not satisfy YOU, I know; but you shall
not talk ME out of my trust in it. I am persuaded that Mrs. Smith suspects
his regard for Marianne, disapproves of it, (perhaps because she has other
views for him,) and on that account is eager to get him away; — and
that the business which she sends him off to transact is invented as an
excuse to dismiss him. This is what I believe to have happened. He is,
moreover, aware that she DOES disapprove the connection, he dares not
therefore at present confess to her his engagement with Marianne, and he
feels himself obliged, from his dependent situation, to give into her
schemes, and absent himself from Devonshire for a while. You will tell me, I
know, that this may or may NOT have happened; but I will listen to no cavil,
unless you can point out any other method of understanding the affair as
satisfactory at this. And now, Elinor, what have you to say?"

"Nothing, for you have
anticipated my answer."

"Then you would have told
me, that it might or might not have happened. Oh, Elinor, how
incomprehensible are your feelings! You had rather take evil upon credit
than good. You had rather look out for misery for Marianne, and guilt for
poor Willoughby, than an apology for the latter. You are resolved to think
him blameable, because he took leave of us with less affection than his
usual behaviour has shewn. And is no allowance to be made for inadvertence,
or for spirits depressed by recent disappointment? Are no probabilities to
be accepted, merely because they are not certainties? Is nothing due to the
man whom we have all such reason to love, and no reason in the world to
think ill of? To the possibility of motives unanswerable in themselves,
though unavoidably secret for a while? And, after all, what is it you
suspect him of?"

"I can hardly tell myself.
But suspicion of something unpleasant is the inevitable consequence of such
an alteration as we just witnessed in him. There is great truth, however, in
what you have now urged of the allowances which ought to be made for him,
and it is my wish to be candid in my judgment of every body. Willoughby may
undoubtedly have very sufficient reasons for his conduct, and I will hope
that he has. But it would have been more like Willoughby to acknowledge them
at once. Secrecy may be advisable; but still I cannot help wondering at its
being practiced by him."

"Do not blame him, however,
for departing from his character, where the deviation is necessary. But you
really do admit the justice of what I have said in his defence? — I am
happy — and he is acquitted."

"Not entirely. It may be
proper to conceal their engagement (if they ARE engaged) from Mrs. Smith
— and if that is the case, it must be highly expedient for Willoughby
to be but little in Devonshire at present. But this is no excuse for their
concealing it from us."

"Concealing it from us! my
dear child, do you accuse Willoughby and Marianne of concealment? This is
strange indeed, when your eyes have been reproaching them every day for
incautiousness."

"I want no proof of their
affection," said Elinor;"but of their engagement
I do."

"I am perfectly satisfied of
both."

"Yet not a syllable has been
said to you on the subject, by either of them."

"I have not wanted syllables
where actions have spoken so plainly. Has not his behaviour to Marianne and
to all of us, for at least the last fortnight, declared that he loved and
considered her as his future wife, and that he felt for us the attachment of
the nearest relation? Have we not perfectly understood each other? Has not
my consent been daily asked by his looks, his manner, his attentive and
affectionate respect? My Elinor, is it possible to doubt their engagement?
How could such a thought occur to you? How is it to be supposed that
Willoughby, persuaded as he must be of your sister's love, should leave her,
and leave her perhaps for months, without telling her of his affection;
— that they should part without a mutual exchange of
confidence?"

"I confess," replied Elinor,"that every circumstance
except ONE is in favour of their engagement; but that ONE is the total
silence of both on the subject, and with me it almost outweighs every
other."

"How strange this is! You
must think wretchedly indeed of Willoughby, if, after all that has openly
passed between them, you can doubt the nature of the terms on which they are
together. Has he been acting a part in his behaviour to your sister all this
time? Do you suppose him really indifferent to her?"

"No, I cannot think that. He
must and does love her I am sure."

"But with a strange kind of
tenderness, if he can leave her with such indifference, such carelessness of
the future, as you attribute to him."

"You must remember, my dear
mother, that I have never considered this matter as certain. I have had my
doubts, I confess; but they are fainter than they were, and they may soon be
entirely done away. If we find they correspond, every fear of mine will be
removed."

"A mighty concession indeed!
If you were to see them at the altar, you would suppose they were going to
be married. Ungracious girl! But I require no such proof. Nothing in my
opinion has ever passed to justify doubt; no secrecy has been attempted; all
has been uniformly open and unreserved. You cannot doubt your sister's
wishes. It must be Willoughby therefore whom you suspect. But why? Is he not
a man of honour and feeling? Has there been any inconsistency on his side to
create alarm? can he be deceitful?"

"I hope not, I believe
not," cried Elinor. "I love Willoughby,
sincerely love him; and suspicion of his integrity cannot be more
painful to yourself than to me. It has been involuntary, and I will not
encourage it. I was startled, I confess, by the alteration in his
manners this morning; — he did not speak like himself, and did not
return your kindness with any cordiality. But all this may be explained
by such a situation of his affairs as you have supposed. He had just
parted from my sister, had seen her leave him in the greatest
affliction; and if he felt obliged, from a fear of offending Mrs. Smith,
to resist the temptation of returning here soon, and yet aware that by
declining your invitation, by saying that he was going away for some
time, he should seem to act an ungenerous, a suspicious part by our
family, he might well be embarrassed and disturbed. In such a case, a
plain and open avowal of his difficulties would have been more to his
honour I think, as well as more consistent with his general character;
— but I will not raise objections against any one's conduct on so
illiberal a foundation, as a difference in judgment from myself, or a
deviation from what I may think right and consistent."

"You speak very properly.
Willoughby certainly does not deserve to be suspected. Though WE have not
known him long, he is no stranger in this part of the world; and who has
ever spoken to his disadvantage? Had he been in a situation to act
independently and marry immediately, it might have been odd that he should
leave us without acknowledging everything to me at once: but this is not the
case. It is an engagement in some respects not prosperously begun, for their
marriage must be at a very uncertain distance; and even secrecy, as far as
it can be observed, may now be very advisable."

They were interrupted by the
entrance of Margaret; and Elinor was then at liberty to think over the
representations of her mother, to acknowledge the probability of many, and
hope for the justice of all.

They saw nothing of Marianne
till dinner time, when she entered the room and took her place at the table
without saying a word. Her eyes were red and swollen; and it seemed as if
her tears were even then restrained with difficulty. She avoided the looks
of them all, could neither eat nor speak, and after some time, on her
mother's silently pressing her hand with tender compassion, her small degree
of fortitude was quite overcome, she burst into tears and left the
room.

This violent oppression of
spirits continued the whole evening. She was without any power, because she
was without any desire of command over herself. The slightest mention of
anything relative to Willoughby overpowered her in an instant; and though
her family were most anxiously attentive to her comfort, it was impossible
for them, if they spoke at all, to keep clear of every subject which her
feelings connected with him.